And You Are?
by emmaouttathebox
Summary: Dean and Sam are following a string of mysterious deaths, but are they the only ones?
1. Chapter 1

"Dude. We gotta stop here first," Dean said, eyes wide as he gestured outside the window to a nearby restaurant, "It's even shaped like a pie." The Winchesters had stopped in the quirky small town following a rash of strange deaths across the state. The last death had occurred here not even two days ago. Dean had complained the entire drive, lamenting the loss of the Bat Cave, until he'd seen it. _The Pie Hole._

"C'mon, man. Our last stop was four hours ago," Dean insisted, parking the Impala. The two of them climbed out and Dean made a beeline for the door. "Besides," he grinned, "maybe someone knows something." Sam just snorted and rolled his eyes as he followed Dean into the diner.

* * *

At that very moment, the Piemaker was mulling over what he knew while rolling out another one of his perfect pie crusts. The facts were these: 1 day, 12 hours and 27 minutes ago, Edith Margo, orphanage supervisor and amateur astronomer, was out of bed gazing intently at the stars. 1 day, 12 hours and 23 minutes ago, however, Edith had stopped, likely due to the unfortunate fact she was dead. Even more unfortunate, however, was the discovery of her dead body by one Eugene Hughes. Aside from her life, there was one more thing Edith Margo was missing: her legs.

If there was someone who could sniff out a strange case, it was Emerson Cod, which was why 8 hours and 22 minutes later, he was off to the morgue, the Piemaker in tow. "This was not in my plans," the Piemaker muttered anxiously, not excited to see the body of one missing their bottom half.

"Oh yeah?" Emerson Cod said, "Well, I don't think it was in Edith's plans to get herself killed and look how that worked out. Besides, I didn't have anything better to do and this is actually an interesting death for once."

The Piemaker swallowed. "Interesting is a plot twist, or when it snows in October, or a strawberry ending up in your apple pie. Interesting is usually not something I apply to corpses whose legs appear to have been forcibly removed."

"You know what I call interesting?" Emerson called, turning to face Ned, who'd fallen behind, "Money. And weird cases like this bring in a lot of cash. So let's have you work some magic on this interesting corpse of ours." Snorting, he returned to the door, pushing it open.

The corpse was pulled from its frosty hidey-hole and set out for the men. With a flourish, Emerson whipped off the sheet. Edith Margo had not been a particularly tall woman and this was especially apparent with bloody stubs that existed in place of legs. Ned turned away, feeling slightly sick to his stomach. "You didn't have to pull it all the way off," he groaned, "It's indecent!"

"Indecent is keeping your dead girlfriend alive at the expense of someone else," Emerson said, "Besides, when's the next time you're gonna see a freak show like this?"

Ned grimaced as he pulled a stopwatch out of his pocket. Setting it at 60 seconds, he handed the device to Emerson before turning to face the corpse, who was, rather unfortunately, covered in blood. Wincing, Ned rolled up his sleeve, eyeing the body to try and find the cleanest point of access. "Go time," he said, touching Edith's mostly clean chin as Emerson started the timer. There was a gasp and Edith breathed in. 59 seconds to go.

"Hello, Edith, you're-" Ned started, but he was cut off by a shriek as Edith bolted upright, followed by a yell from Emerson.

"MY LEGS! I CAN'T FEEL MY LEGS!" the short, portly woman screamed as Emerson swore. Ned ignored him.

"Yes, it's rather unfortunate, we were just wondering, Edith, if you could tell us who killed you," Ned said, trying to inject as much calm into his voice as he could. Corpses still rattled him.

Unfortunately, both Edith and Emerson were yelling. "EMERSON," Ned called, "Shut up!" He turned back to face Edith."This is important. Who killed you?"

She quieted, though there was still fear in her eyes. "I know what killed me," she said, voice hoarse, "Saw it clear as day. T'was a vampire."

Ned gaped, unsure of what to say. "Time!" called Emerson, and with another quick touch Edith was back down, dead, this time, for good. From across the table, Ned caught Emerson's eye. What had they gotten themselves into this time?


	2. Chapter 2

"C'mon, you have to admit this is the best thing to have walked into The Pie Hole," squeaked Olive on tiptoe as she peeked over the counter. Chuck, Olive's less-than-willing partner in crime, did not answer. "Forget about Ned for a second. You telling me you'd rather wait on Old Man Jacobs than them?" Olive gestured to the Winchesters and sighed.

"Old Man Jacobs isn't that bad..." Chuck started halfheartedly, following Olive's lead in staring at the two well-dressed men.

"Old Man Jacobs is gross, doesn't tip well and smells like dead fish," retorted Olive. "I bet these two smell good...sure _look_ good...I wonder if they have any tattoos..." trailing off, she turned to Chuck, but Chuck was gone!

"Looks like they're ready to order!" Chuck called, heading away to the tables. Olive seethed. That was below the belt! Never mind Chuck, she'd find a way to get noticed.

If there was anything Olive Snook was good at, it was getting attention.

"Dude, they have everything!" Dean said, pointing to the menu excitedly. "Makes me wish you had your Tuesday-loop here!"

Sam groaned, setting down the newspaper he'd been reading, "You promised to never bring that up again." That said, Dean was right about one thing. It all looked good and the smells of the shop were intoxicating. Besides, it had been ages since he'd seen Dean this excited about anything; he had spent the last couple of weeks holed up in the Bat Cave to care for Kevin and Cas, both of whom had come down with a pretty vicious strain of flu. It had taken a large amount of coaxing to get Dean back on the caseload and he only left after he was positive Kevin could load and wield a handgun and Cas was on the mend.

"Hi, I'm Chuck. I'll be your waitress today!"

Sam looked up to see a pretty girl, red hair messily pulled back in a ponytail. "You ready to order?" she asked, smiling.

He glanced at Dean, still engrossed with the menu. "We'll take a second," Sam said, cocking his head at Dean, "He takes his pie pretty seriously."

"Alright. Hey, I haven't seen you here before, Are you from around here?" Chuck asked curiously, trying to make an excuse for loitering around the table.

"No. We're FBI. We've, uh, followed a case here." Sam decided to go out on a limb, "You happen to know of Edith Margo?"

Chuck's eyes widened in recognition. She did, in fact, know of Edith Margo, or at least the gruesome description Ned had rendered during their attempt at a relaxing evening the night before. Why were the FBI getting involved? "Yeah, she died in her sleep or something, right?"

By now, Dean had put down his menu. "Something like that, sweetheart," he cut in smoothly, "but I'd rather not mix my work with my pie. Leaves a bad aftertaste," he added with a wink. "I'll have a slice of apple and another of pecan, a la mode. Sammy?"

"Uh, surprise me," Sam muttered, distracted. Giving Chuck a strange look, he returned back to his paper. She definitely knew something, Sam just wasn't sure what.


	3. Chapter 3

The Winchesters weren't the only ones mulling over the murder, there was plenty of that going on aloud in the kitchen.

"I don't like it," the Piemaker announced as he sliced into another magically ripened apple, "Why would she say she was killed by a vampire? That doesn't even make sense."

"She was dying, probably just hallucinating," Emerson Cod said dismissively as he threw out another newly-dead flower, "What _I_ don't like is the way your girls are cavorting with those fancy pants strangers." He cocked his head towards the diner, grimacing.

"It just doesn't add up," Ned continued, "I wish we'd done the usual follow-up while we were there before." The experience had, though Emerson refused to admit it, rattled them both so much that they'd practically ran out of the morgue without any other usual detective work, "Now we're going to have to go back and...wait," the slicing stopped as what Emerson said sunk in, "What cavorting?" He dropped the knife and headed to the open area, peeking out. Sure enough, there _were_ two very attractive strangers and, worse, his very own Chuck walking towards them. Ned all but burst out of the back kitchen.

"Who are those guys?" he asked, tapping a clearly smitten Olive and gesturing.

"Apparently they're cops, FBI, here to investigate the Edith Margo murder. Isn't that something?" Olive sighed, not taking her eyes from their table.

Ned gulped. Federal agents? This couldn't be good. What if they were here for more than just the case? What if they found out about Chuck? A surge of panic welled up inside him. "What's Chuck doing with them?" he hissed, "We have no idea who they are!"

Olive glowered. Apparently Chuck's interaction with them was a sour topic for her. She took a deep breath and forced a smile on to her face. Maybe some good could come from it... "I already told you, they're FBI agents." said Olive with false cheer, "And what's more, they're customers at our establishment, so Chuck's serving them. Though I'd say she's probably showing them more attention than that given the way she's been eyeing them up..."

Ned said nothing, waiting anxiously for Chuck to return to the kitchen. "What do you think you're doing?" he murmured, trying to keep his voice down. "We don't know who those men are! They could be dangerous! I don't want you serving them."

Frankly, Chuck was getting somewhat nervous about the looks Sam kept giving her, but as soon as she heard Ned forbid her from leaving, Chuck bristled. "They're FBI, and I'm _fine._ In fact, they're very nice."

Ned had made her angry and he knew it, but there was no backing down now. "They could be here for me, they might even be here for _you_. Did you think of that?" he asked in hushed tones.

Chuck knew Ned could be right, but at this point she was not giving up the fight. Instead, she turned and grabbed a pair of mugs, heading to the coffee machine. "I think you're just jealous," she snapped, maybe a bit louder than she'd intended. Chuck flipped the switch and coffee began to gurgle out into the mug.

Ned wasn't sure how to respond. "J-jealous? Me? No way! I wouldn't care one bit if you went out with one of those fancy-pants posers."

Chuck stiffened as she filled the second mug, clearly hurt. She took a moment to compose herself, then turned back around, coffee prepared. "Well," she said coldly, "If you don't care, then I'd suggest letting me get back to my work." Ned, without realizing it, had shifted to block her exit from the back.

Olive could feel the tension and it was _beautiful_. Either Chuck would lose favor with the handsome strangers or with Ned, and that meant either way Olive was off a winner. She placed a hand on Ned's shoulder. "C'mon," she said softly, "I think the pies need to get out of the oven."

Head spinning, Ned allowed Olive to coax him out of the way. First the strange murder, then the strange men and now Chuck? There was a lot to mull over and it filled him with an unhealthy amount of unease. That said, the Piemaker knew one thing for sure: the sooner this mystery was done, the better.


	4. Chapter 4

"Dude, looks like a lover's spat," Dean grinned, glancing over to the commotion at the kitchen. This sort of situation wasn't unknown to Dean, or Sam, for that matter. They'd had plenty of problems with big beefy guys in bars threatening a fight because their girls were eyeing the Winchesters up. In this case, however, the guy in question looked small and somewhat awkward. In all honesty, the guy looked more scared than jealous.

Sam gave a grunt, poring the bulk of his focus into studying the file he had compiled of various newspaper clippings, photos and lore. Every now and then Sam would make a note or circle something, his forehead creased. Dean kept his eye on the diner, searching for signs of suspicious behavior. Aside from the argument in the kitchen, nothing really stood out.

Chuck, on the other hand, was sauntering back energetically, face composed in a smile. She slammed two cups of coffee on the table with enough force to send some trickling over the edge and down the side of the mug. "Coffee's on the house, the pie will be here shortly," she snapped, curtly. Noticing the spill, Chuck pulled a napkin out of her pocket and started to wipe. Her eyes caught a glimpse of Sam's file.

"What's that?" Chuck asked, genuinely curious as she pointed to a map covered in various lines and circles.

"It's nothing," Sam said, hastily gathering the papers up into the folder, "Just some research for the case we're working."

Chuck glanced back at the kitchen, Ned was nowhere to be seen. "Maybe I can help! We get all sorts of people in here."

Sam and Dean exchanged a quick look, having what seemed to be a silent conversation. "Uh, yeah, that would be great, actually," Sam exclaimed, "How much do you know about the _Coeur d'Couers Academy for Curious Children_?"

Chuck drummed her fingers absentmindedly on the table. "It's a boarding school, isn't it? Supposedly for bright children, though given how dismal the building looks I would hardly say it's doing it's job."

"You've been there?" Sam queried.

"Not there in person, but it's a bit outside of town. I've passed it before. It's hard to miss: the only dark, creepy mansion for miles," Chuck shivered just thinking of it. Her forays out into the real world were few and far between and the Academy was like a rotten berry in a bite of pie, unfortunately unforgettable.

"You hear of anything weird happening over there?" Dean cut in through her reverie, "Uh, cold spots, strange noises, that sort of thing?"

"What are you trying to do, fix the place up or solve a murder?" Chuck snapped. She was beginning to wonder if they were FBI agents at all. "If anything, shouldn't you ask if the doors or windows worked? Because how on earth could a vamp-" Chuck cut herself off, terrified. A slip of the tongue like that might lead her into a mental asylum, or worse.

"What did you say?" asked Sam. Both men were looking intently at Chuck, searching her face for answers. She turned back to the kitchen, sincerely missing Ned's presence.

"I was just, uh, making conversation," Chuck squeaked, "Y'know, I should probably get out of your hair. I think the pie will be here soon!" She turned so fast she almost tripped. The Winchesters watched Chuck with interest, noting her trembling hand run through her hair as she approached a fellow waitress.

"She knows something," Dean grunted, turning to Sam.

"Did it sound like she was about to say vampire?" Sam asked, still watching Chuck as she made her way back towards the kitchen.

"You heard the way she described the Academy," Dean waved his hand dismissively as he took a sip of coffee, "Chick's just probably worked up. Bet it's the town's first real death. She's probably just watched too many horror flicks and jumped to conclusions."

Dean flipped through the file almost absentmindedly, as if by sheer osmosis he could figure something out. Sam, who had already poured over the case more times than he could count, drummed his fingers on the table and stared out the window. There had to be a connection somewhere...

"Yeah, but why think of vamps?" Sam pressed, "This isn't a typical vamp kill. In fact, I'm hard pressed to find _anything_ that kills vics the way this one did." He leaned over the table and shuffled through the papers, pulling a few out of the stack.

"Look," he said, pointing to a coroner's report. "According to this, the legs appear to have been chewed off, the brain's been removed and-get this-cause of death?"

"Heart attack?" Dean exclaimed, "How does that even happen?" Sam shrugged, taking a gulp of coffee as he leaned back into his seat.

The Winchesters had become so engrossed in their case they did not notice Chuck. Chuck had been standing at the table, pie in hand, for several minutes. When she had arrived, Chuck was about to interrupt them when the mention of vampires caught her attention. Now, unfortunately, Chuck was learning a lesson that those who eavesdrop often do: she knew more than she wanted to. Slowly, Chuck cleared her throat. Her head was spinning and it took all of Chuck's strength to muster up a croak, "Pie's here."


End file.
